


Lunchtime in Central Park

by miss_slipslop



Category: White Collar
Genre: Backstory, Character Study, F/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-25 01:25:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_slipslop/pseuds/miss_slipslop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sara's lunch hour in Central Park, contemplating her past, and an encounter. Takes place in between the episodes Unfinished Business and In the Red.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lunchtime in Central Park

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OzQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OzQueen/gifts).



> Belated birthday fic for OzQueen. Here's to 2013 being your year. <3
> 
> Somehow, I got a random scene of Sara walking in Central Park when I was thinking of fic ideas, and just went from there. Hope you like it!

There is a chill in the air today. Sara pulls the thick cashmere scarf she’s wearing more closely to her, but in many ways, she doesn’t mind the cold. So many people have been whining that they can’t wait for spring, that January is the worst month, but there’s something about the brisk air, whipping against her face that makes her feel almost electric. This is why she’s spending her lunch hour sitting on a bench in Central Park, ignoring her case notes for looking out at the inky black trees, perfectly silhouetted against the deep grey sky. 

She comes here a lot, when she needs a few moments to think, when the loud horns and constant rush of people become too much. Sure, she loves Manhattan, wouldn’t live anywhere else even, but she is grateful that Central Park offers a refuge from the never-ending crowds. In this city, it really does seem like a few moments to yourself are a cherished thing, and while Sara is typically all motion, constantly rushing from one task to the next, she reasons that she can give herself the luxury of thirty minutes. 

It’s odd that she has been in such a contemplative mood lately. She normally forgoes deep thoughts in favor of burying herself in cases. Yet in seems that for the past week, she’s been coming to this spot more and more. She’s never been one to live in the past, to think over old decisions, even prides herself on this, but lately, she keeps mulling on long forgotten events. Some might say this is a result of getting older, of suddenly wanting to analyze the significance of one’s choices, but Sara scoffs at this. She’s never been one of those ridiculous sentimentalists, fond of telling old stories rather than asking what’s next. Nor is she a person that constantly regrets or wonders what could have been done differently. Those people never seem to accomplish much. No, her philosophy is simple. Focus on the goal, then on the outcome, and in between, don’t be afraid of breaking a few kneecaps to get what you want. 

She’s always been like that. Ever since she was young. She’d grown up in one of those small, sleepy towns that no one ever seems to leave, decided that she was going to be different. As a teenager, she covered the walls of her room in posters of huge cities. When she wanted a distraction from her homework, she would stare up at her pictures of Manhattan, imagine what it would be like strut along those streets, hailing a cab, while wearing some gorgeous coat and perfect stilettos, while thinking _oh yes, I’ve taken the city by storm _.__

__So many people seem to have these dreams in high school. That they’re going to get out of town, move to some amazing city, land their dream job, have the sort of life everyone else envies. Then as you get older, you settle, say that maybe the town isn’t so bad, that it’s more safe to take some local job, rather than leaving for a strange place._ _

__Sara had vowed over and over again to never be one of these people. Again, to not be the sentimentalist, going on about how once, she had wanted to live in Manhattan. No, she was going to take the risk, be the the bold adventurer, fiercely independent, not afraid of anything.  
Her parents hadn’t been thrilled when she had told them about her plan to attend NYU. They’d gone on about how the local university was just as good, that Manhattan was dirty and overcrowded and full of crime, that they didn’t understand her sometimes. Sara had just shaken her head, told them that if they weren’t supportive, she would pay her own way. Even at eighteen, she’d been defiant. _ _

__They’d eventually let her go, told her to be careful and to call them every week. Sara had made an effort at first, when she was more lonely than she thought she would be her freshman year, but then the spell of Manhattan had consumed her. She loved the way that the air always seemed to hum, brought on by the endless masses of people, all rushing off to a thousand different things. She loved the way was surrounded by crowds, but still had her own purpose to fulfill. The way that even though she wasn’t intimately familiar with the hundreds of people she walked the streets with everyday, she still fit in better than she ever had at home._ _

__She eventually stopped coming back for summer vacations, somehow talked her way into getting an internship at a law firm. The work had been hard--making coffee runs and filing papers for picky, entitled attorneys, but Sara had vowed that someday, she would be the one barking out Starbucks orders._ _

__And then, year by year, she had made it. She’d gotten her law degree from Columbia, worked her way up from a miserable studio apartment with a leaking ceiling, to an apartment with a living room and a bedroom (a luxury in Manhattan), to an apartment with a bay window and a chandelier._ _

__She is proof that settling isn’t an option, that ambition is the finest attribute, that independence will take you places. Her parents still think otherwise, whine that she hasn’t been home in two years, but Sara has never been one to care about the opinions of others._ _

__A bicycle suddenly whirs past, shaking her out of her reverie. She checks her watch. Ten minutes to get back to the office. She really needs to stop daydreaming like this. It’s pointless._ _

__As she starts to rise from the bench, a voice suddenly calls out--_ _

__“Ellis!”_ _

__Sara startles slightly, looking around for the source calling her name. It sounds vaguely familiar, but she can’t quite place it, and _oh shit _.  
Suddenly, there he is, standing right next to her, all cocky grin and perfectly tailored three piece suit and that stupid fedora. Sara has no idea why he’s here, or talking to her, but of course, he’s Neal Caffrey and lives to infuriate people. Especially her, it seems. It doesn’t help that after the surreal events of last week, Sara wants nothing to do with him. He might have tried to be all charming when she was pretending to be dead, but the fact is, he’s still a conman. ___ _

____“Caffery.” She stands up a little straighter, once again playing the part of the do-not-fuck-with-me insurance investigator, rather than the winsome girl in the park. “Shouldn’t you be with your handlers?”_ _ _ _

____“Ouch.” He grimaces. “That hurts. It really does. And I was sent on a coffee run. Apparently, I’m now the errand boy.”_ _ _ _

____“Glad to know they’re putting you to good use.” She swings her purse over her shoulder, starts to walk away from the bench. “Of course, you probably stole money from the tip jar to pay for those lattes.”_ _ _ _

____“I did no such thing.” He gives her a cheeky grin. “Remember? I’ve reformed now.”_ _ _ _

____Actually, Mozzie had nicked a twenty from the jar (or as he calls it, “money of the man”) when no one was looking, but Sara doesn’t have to know that._ _ _ _

____“So,” he continues. “What have you been doing? Reflecting on your near-miss with death?”_ _ _ _

____Sara brushes past him._ _ _ _

____“I’m going back to work,” she says. “Keep talking to me, and I’ll use my baton on you. I also carry pepper spray” (her mother had given her a can before starting college, and some old habits die hard)._ _ _ _

____“I’ll take my chances.” He falls into step beside her. “You know Ellis, sometimes it’s nice to talk to people. Being alone with your thoughts can get tiresome.”_ _ _ _

____“I wasn’t _alone with my thoughts _”. Sara speaks up, despite her vow to ignore him. “I was on lunch hour, and I like to go to Central Park sometimes.”___ _ _ _

______Neal nods at her. “Fair enough. Central Park is a good place. Probably one of my favorite spots in New York. I did one of my first cons here.”  
In spite of herself, Sara lets out a small snort of laughter. “Why am I not surprised? Normal people remember going to boating on the lake here, or good soccer games. You remember your first con.” _ _ _ _ _ _

______“It was a very significant moment in my life,” Neal protests._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Again, forget going to college or first apartments. Deceiving people is where it’s at.” Sara begins to walk more briskly. They’re heading out of the park now, towards the concrete jungle again._ _ _ _ _ _

______Neal is actually quiet for a moment, and Sara smirks._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Have I just stunned Neal Caffrey into silence?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Definitely.” The swagger is back. “I’m filled with remorse. Repenting for all my bad deeds, thanks to your rebuke.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Glad to know I could help.” Sara presses the ‘Walk’ button. “Now go away. I have to get back to work, and I’m running late as it is.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Sure you don’t want company? I could tell you about some of my best schemes, you could talk more about whatever was troubling you--”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I think,” Sara says, keeping her voice sweet, “that my work is out of your radius. Pity.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Neal shrugs. “I have to go anyways. But before you leave--”he reaches into the coffee carrier he’s holding, and extends a cup--”they gave me an extra latte. Probably because I’m so charming. Take it. It’s Italian roast.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Sara hesitates for a moment. It’s about to be midday, and she’s going into the stifling office soon. Besides, this coffee is bound to be better than what they have in the conference room._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I promised it’s not poisoned.” Neal says. “Or stolen. Really, believe that I’m just making a kind gesture.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You? Kind?” Sara grabs the coffee from him. “You’re funny.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______She takes a sip, and is pleasantly surprised._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Good, right?” Neal once again grins, like the obnoxious Cheshire cat he is. “It was nice catching up, Ellis. Maybe we’ll have another encounter soon. Like I said, sometimes talking to people is good.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Sara makes a note to find a new bench in the next day._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Thank you for the coffee.” The light is beeping at her, so she starts to head across the street. “Now I really have to go. Don’t follow me.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Neal just grins and tips that dumb hat at her. Sara rolls her eyes. She really doesn’t understand him at all, especially the part of him that fancies himself a lost member of the Rat Pack. She doesn’t even want to understand him._ _ _ _ _ _

______Why then, is she smiling slightly as she heads up the street, still feeling charged, even as she dreads leaving the outdoors for paperwork?_ _ _ _ _ _

______The wind whips around her, undoing her scarf slightly, and Sara is left with her thoughts once more._ _ _ _ _ _


End file.
